It was as if the trees and the sounds and all of the life
teeming around in every direction was infusing her with new purpose. She was in
her element because deep in the equatorial rain forest of Africa, she felt
like she was a part of something larger than herself. She had often felt the same spiritual energy
back in the great mountain forests of Yellowstone, but here and now that
feeling was more intense than ever.

Intense because Caitlin knew that all of this—every
creature, every tree, every drop of water—was in grave danger unless she could
win in her battle to save it. She had to win. She would win—just as she had in
Yellowstone.

She found a forest elephant trail—and a fresh trail at
that—and took advantage. The trail ran parallel to the river so she stayed on
the course Azrael had instructed. Every kilometer or so she stopped and
ascended to the heights of tree tops to get a full view of the river valley all
around her.

She thought about Azrael and Naza and began to worry they
may have come across trouble in the form of Zahn’s men or even the White Hand.
Swanson was supposed be in Uganda by now teaming up with Mustafa’s storm
troopers as they prepared to invade Virunga. But the White Hand network was
extensive and there could me militia men out here. Bottom line, the sooner she
hooked back up with Azrael and Naza, the better she would feel.

On her third look-out climb Caitlin spotted something on the
trail up ahead. No, not something, someone. Could it be Azrael and Naza?

No, there were too many of them. It was a group and they had
lots of equipment and—fuck me, she cursed to herself. They were poachers.
Hunters. Here to murder for fun and were right on the trail of a family of
forest elephants.

No way! Not a chance! Not on my watch you cowardice piece of
shits!

Caitlin felt her blood boil with primal rage as she snapped
up the rope cord, whipped it out to loop onto a tree branch up ahead, and swung
into hot action.

Ahead and down at ten o’clock Caitlin spotted a human figure
in safari gear crouched down on the shoulder of the trail. It was a woman and
cocked on her shoulder was a high-powered AR-15 rifle with a scope. The
would-be murdering woman was waiting for the family of elephants to round the
corner of the trail so she could slaughter them and show her buddies at the gun
club back home how tough she was to her fellow butchers.

Caitlin landed on the branch, recoiled the rope-cord and
whipped it out to latch onto the next tree. She placed her bare feet on the
core of the branch, squatted down, the pushed off hard, thrusting her form
airborne.

She reached the apex of the swing, reached back and grabbed
her fight stick. As she descended down to the a lower branch on the next
tree—Caitlin used her powerful, deadly accurate left arm and whipped the fight
stick down at the woman just as the poacher prepared to senselessly destroy
innocent, intelligent life.

The fight stick sizzled across the air javelin style, like a
rocketed projectile.

The poacher woman took aim at the female elephant guiding
her baby along the trail. Just as she was about to squeeze the trigger—the
sound of flesh and cartilage being ripped as Caitlin’s projectile fight stick
pierced the poacher's right shoulder—tearing it open as the would-be murderer
dropped the weapon and screamed out.

Two male poachers and their guide jumped out in front of the
elephants, their rifles raised and cocked.

The family of elephants stopped, became spooked, and
frantically charged about looking for an escape route. And Caitlin was happy to
oblige.

She recoiled the rope cord back to her, the snapped it out,
lassoing the two hunters. Before the two butchers knew what hit them, Caitlin
yanked hard on the rope-cord, sending her two captured enemies reeling hard
into the dirt. Then Caitlin turned and sprinted, dragging the cowards off of
the trail and into a thorny patch of brush. She secured the other end of the
rope-cord around a tree trunk, hog tying them while she dealt with the guide.
The woman stayed put on the ground holding her shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel too good when you are the one being hunted,
does it?” Caitlin said to her before moving toward the guide.

The guide had his rifle pointed at Caitlin.

“Inglais?” Caitlin asked.

The guide nodded yes.

“Shame on you,” Caitlin said. “You can make more money
showing off the beauty of this land and its creatures. You should be doing
that—not killing them.”

“And now I will kill you,” the guide said.

“Oh yeah?” Caitlin asked. “I don’t think so tough guy. Do
you know who I am?”

The guide nodded no.

“I am Caitlin Star of the Bull Mongoni,” she said. “The
Bantu forest people call me Nashee Ah. I saved the wolves of North America from
people like these murderers—and people like you. And now I am here to save the creatures
of this great forest.”

“I am not impressed,” the guide snapped. “Because I have the
gun. And you are just a girl.”

Caitlin almost laughed out loud.

“Buddy, you have no idea what I am capable of,” she said.
“Now, put the rifle down on the ground. Step back and walk away. Then leave
this place and do not ever come back. If you do that, I will let you live.”

The guide did not move.

“I will not ask again,” Caitlin said.

She zoomed in her focus on him and could sense his tension
on the trigger, his eyes narrowing. He was about to fire on her.

In a blur of a motion, far too quick for the naked eye to
see, Caitlin snatched a bayonet from her utility belt and with a snap of her
left wrist, sent it whizzing straight into the skull of the guide. As the blade
impaled his brain, a sweet spurting of crimson erupted, spraying out into the
air. It made for a perfect impression for the three poachers who watched on in
shock.

“Anybody else want to try me on for size?” Caitlin asked as
she walked about collecting all their rifles.

“Now, as you just saw, I don’t like to repeat myself, so
listen up,” Caitlin said. “You heard what I said to that stupid dead fuck over
there. And if you or anyone else with a gun ever sets foot in this forest
again, I will do far worse than put a blade in your skull and kill you
quickly.”

Caitlin took out her cutlass and paced about. She was still
raging. Still feeling the primal savage desire to make these murderers pay. But
sometimes leaving survivors can be an even stronger deterrent than corpses.

“Go back the way you came,” Caitlin roared. “Now! Get the
fuck out of here and don’t you dare ever, ever, ever comeback. I am Caitlin
Star of the Bull Mongoni. Tell all your murdering pals that the jungles of
Africa are now mine.”

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About Me

James J. Caterino is a freelance writer based in South Florida. The wildly controversial scribe is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh and the Action/Cut school of directing. He is the author of "Technicolor Dreams", "Battle of the Network Superheroes", "The B Girl", the "Caitlin Star" series, "Steel Phantom", "The Selfie", "The Last Neanderthal", "She", "Action Figure", "All About Amy", "Video Noir", "Among the Stars", hundreds of essays, movie, television, and music reviews, screenplays, short stories, and much more. Please visit Jamescaterino.com for more